Comfort Zones

        "I'm scared about a lot of things that I do. [But] I want this more than I am scared." -- Rachel Morgan

*paw-thunk*

The sound of the ball bouncing off the wall echoed through the empty corp offices, my steps mute on the plush carpet of this Gallente facility.

*paw-thunk*

The corp had started (restarted?) out enthusiastic enough, two old members recruiting new employees for fantastic adventures in Gallente factional warfare, with a number of hi-sec war decs thrown in for good measure. They even managed to convince crotchety old me to sign up, after nearly two years as solo operator, both voluntary and involuntary.

*paw-thunk*

But it wasn’t to be - our cycles didn’t overlap enough to gel, to work together, mine included. Especially mine.

*paw-thunk*

The founders tried to keep it going, but after a month sensibly pulled the plug, themselves moving into a null-sec corporation.

*paw-thunk* *crash*

I almost didn’t catch the ball, it having smashed a forgotten mug off a table on its rebound.

Ironically, the weekend after The Announcement, we got into a marvelous fight with some of our hi-sec war targets, like a last hurrah

*paw-thunk*

I lost a number of smaller hulls in this fight, while trying to learn how much little help I could be in a hi-sec situation. At least that would be the official explanation; in reality, I was just excited to have at least one brawl at the side of my soon-no-longer corp mates. And hey, I helped killing a Thorax! In hi-sec!

*paw-thunk*

But that had been almost a week ago. Now I was an Amarrian pilot staged in a Gallente station, in an empty corp which had ceased active involvement, disliked by Gallente and the fuzz alike. Just when I had realized what I was looking for in a new home.

*paw-thunk*

I knew that the founders would put in a good word with their new corp if any of us desired to follow them, but I hesitated. Null-sec… that meant large fleets, strat-ops, strict doctrines, bubbles, no talking in local, the temptation of hiding your personal incompetence in the mass effort. All the things which I couldn’t get away with in lo-sec. I loved lo-sec.

In null-sec, I’d be totally out of my comfort zone.

*paw-thunk*

I caught the ball and stopped my steps, pondering.

Comfort zones - isn’t that what it all came down to? What I had tried to get away from ever since the Last Stand faded away, and I had left the Frequent Flyers?

I threw the ball again.

*paw-thunk*

Realization dawned that I had actually made my decision days ago, that I had needed just one more push to convince my conscious self. After all, what could the worst case be? Being turned down?

But I wouldn’t apply right away - a bit more research was in order, if only to be able to state clearly what I could bring to the corp. And in the meantime…

With an evil grin, I threw the ball with all the force I could muster.

*THOMP* *donk* *crash*

I was an Amarrian, staged in a Gallente hi-sec station right next to the factional warfare zone, and by now I was used to getting shot at by all kinds of officials anyway. And I was tired of moving my inventory.

Time to shoot back again.